Plans
by Clara Barton
Summary: Zechs receives an invitation to his 15 year high school reunion, he and Trowa make plans


June 9: Roadtrip

A/N: Always, always thanks to Ro for everything. You are a wonderful beta.

A/N2: I'm playing with ages a bit. Sorry if that offends anyone.

Warnings: AU, language, sex? MAYBE?

Pairings: 6x3

 _Plans_

Zechs stared at the postcard with dismay.

 _Come and reminiscence with the Class of 2002! It's been 15 years - we haven't forgotten you, and we know you haven't forgotten us!_

He wasn't sure what was more offensive, the words, or the _aesthetics_ of the thing. Every other word had been typed in a different font and different color, giving the invitation the air of a deranged person's ransom note.

Fifteen years.

After the day he had had, Zechs did _not_ need the reminder that he would be turning thirty-four in just a few months, or that it had been _fifteen years_ since he had been in high school.

Zechs decided to toss the card - he hadn't attended his ten-year reunion, and the fifteenth was, if possible, even less appealing.

He walked into the kitchen and pulled open the cabinet door that hid the trash can.

"You don't want to go?"

Trowa was leaning against the counter, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

He had already seen the invitation - had been home first, and had gone out of his way to arrange the postcard on top of all of the other mail, centering it neatly so that Zechs would _know_ he had seen it.

"Do I strike you as the type to want to," Zechs glanced at the card again and sneered, " _dance my way into the past and_ groove _all night long_?"

"I didn't realize people were still grooving when you were in high school," Trowa mused, his green eyes sparkling and his lips subtly curved in amusement.

"We weren't," Zechs assured him. He thought back to his senior prom. Grooving had absolutely not been something he had done.

Trowa passed Zechs a beer, the cold bottle going a long way to easing Zechs's tension, but he snagged the postcard before Zechs could bin it and put an end to the affair.

"You know," Trowa mused as he flipped it over, "July is the slow month for me. We could take a week and make it a vacation."

"A vacation? What, you want the grand tour of my hometown? There are perhaps _three_ points of interest, and all them are better over the internet than in person."

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

He took a sip of his own beer and shrugged.

"I wasn't really thinking about the mayor's house or Civil War memorials. I'm more interested in seeing where you went on your first date. Where you had your first kiss. Your first blowjob. Your first _fuck_."

Zechs had made the mistake, when he had first met Trowa, of assuming that the man's natural social reticence indicated that he wasn't, in reality and in private, a sassy brat with a dirty mind. It was a revelation that, in turns, amused and baffled Zechs.

"I'm only showing you those places if you're planning on staging a reenactment," Zechs said.

Trowa smirked.

"Do you want me to be as bad as they were? Or am I allowed to adapt?"

Zechs rolled his eyes.

"How do you know my first fuck wasn't the best I've ever had?"

Trowa arched an eyebrow, but he didn't say anything.

He would, Zechs knew from experience, spend the rest of the night silent and sullen while he waited for Zechs to take back the comment.

Zechs put down his beer and reached for Trowa, hooking one finger in the waistband of his jeans and hauling him close.

"My first date was to a bowling alley. I went with Lucy Noin. I scored a seventy-four and she got one forty-five and spent the rest of the night giving me pointers on how to up my game."

Trowa's lips twitched in amusement, but he managed to hold on to his irritation.

"Yes," Zechs said for him, "I clearly have a _type_."

He smoothed his hand over Trowa's waist, edging his fingers under the hem of his t-shirt. His fingertips grazed over Trowa's smooth stomach and ribs.

"My first kiss," Zechs continued, "was also Lucy. Also at the bowling alley. Apparently, I used too much tongue."

He leaned down, closing the scant space between them, and brushed his lips over Trowa's.

The man was still tense, still resisting him, but when Zechs drew Trowa's lower lip into his mouth, nipping it between his teeth and then sucking on it, Trowa started to relax.

"What do you think?" Zechs asked when he pulled away. "Still too much tongue?"

The look in Trowa's eyes - as well as two years of empirical evidence - made it clear that the answer was _no_.

"And my first blowjob - _not_ Lucy. Otto Vega. He was my catcher - when I played baseball. When I played other things too," Zechs added with a smirk.

Trowa rolled his eyes.

"He choked on me and I came all over his work uniform, and his cum landed in my _eye_. That was also the first job I was fired from. And I think that Domino's location was closed a few years ago and bulldozed - not much of a landmark."

"And that leaves… my first fuck?" Zechs pulled Trowa's hips close, pressing their groins together and shifting his hands to Trowa's ass, giving it a possessive squeeze. " _That_ was Treize Khushrenada, and it was on his sailboat. This ancient Hobie Cat with _holes_ in the netting, and my _dick_ got rope burn. I promise you, I don't fuck you and wish I was with Treize or on that damn boat. _Ever_. But, if you want me to ask him if he still has it, I can take you out and show you just how terrible it is to fuck on a catamaran in choppy water."

"Rope burn on your dick?"

Zechs nodded.

"I couldn't masturbate for a _week_."

"How did you _survive_?"

"Mock me all you want - I was sixteen. A week without masturbation was practically a lifetime vow of celibacy."

"A week without masturbating _now_ is like a vow of celibacy for you," Trowa pointed out. "A _day_ without-"

"I do _not_ masturbate every day. _You,_ on the other hand-"

"I want to meet Lucy," Trowa interrupted him, cheeks a little pink.

"I think she lives in Portland now." Zechs hadn't kept in touch with most of his friends in high school. They had all gone their separate ways and, while they were still in college and coming home over breaks, it had been easier to remain friends. But after college, after grad school in Zechs's case, there had been fewer opportunities to meet, and less they still had in common.

Zechs hadn't even talked to Lucy in three years, not since he had been in San Francisco for work and his meddlesome sister had given Lucy his hotel room number and she had shown up. It _had_ been good to see her, though. To spend a night drinking and reminiscing.

He wondered how she and Trowa would get along. He had a suspicion it would be rather well. Perhaps _too_ well.

"Will she be at the reunion?"

Zechs honestly had no idea. She, unlike him, actually _liked_ to socialize. Also unlike him, Lucy didn't regard their hometown as a distant memory that only grew more pleasant with age and distance.

"Probably."

"You should go."

" _Why_? I thought we already established that I do _not_ groove."

"No," Trowa agreed with a smirk. "But Relena would enjoy seeing you. And your mom-"

"You've been talking to them again, haven't you?"

Trowa gave him a patently false look of wide-eyed innocence.

Zechs sighed.

" _You_ are the one who gave both of them my phone number and my full name. It's not my fault they added me on facebook and instagram. And snapchat. And whatsapp. And skype. And-"

" _How_ can you possibly use that many social media apps?"

"I'm talented. And my sister forces me to use them."

Zechs, having been subjected to the force of nature that was Catherine Bloom, could all-too-easily believe that she was capable of forcing Trowa to communicate with her via _one_ of those, but not a whole host of them.

"We should go," Trowa repeated, tapping the postcard against Zechs's chest.

"Why are you so interested?"

"Because my high school didn't have a five -year reunion, and the ten-year reunion isn't for another three years."

Zechs rolled his eyes.

"You _hated_ high school. You said the only good thing about it was the fact that every gay guy in the marching band was just as horny as you were, and you all played so poorly that no one cared when you skipped practice to fool around."

"Sure, but when I show up at my reunion with _you_ as my date, it'll be worth it to see everyone drool."

"I see."

He hadn't considered that before - hadn't considered using the reunion as an opportunity to show everyone in that small town with their small minds just how little he thought of them. And how lucky he was.

"Admit it, you love the idea of showing off your sexy, _much_ younger boyfriend."

"Nine years isn't a lifetime," Zechs reminded him, but it _was_ a significant age gap. One that had led to Catherine grilling him the first time they had been introduced, and one that had led Zechs to realize that Trowa was the exact same age as his little sister the first time _they_ had met.

Still, the idea had merit.

"What's in it for me?"

"Aside from the chance to groove, you mean?"

"Yes, aside from that."

"Well, I think we can skip the tour of your sexual awakening. We could make it a road trip."

Zechs had made that drive once, four years ago when his mother had decided to clean out the attic and Zechs had come home to collect his father's old books and baseball memorabilia. It had been a fourteen-hour drive from Philadelphia to Newnan, Georgia. Zechs had driven straight through there and back, and didn't particularly care to _ever_ repeat the experience.

"You want to take a road trip to _Georgia_?"

"Think of all the shitty motels we can stay in, and all of the stale bagels and sour coffee we can eat for _free_ in the mornings."

"There's a reason your boss didn't put you in sales," Zechs muttered.

Trowa smirked in response, and bumped his hips against Zechs.

"Plus, there's all of the motel sex we can have."

 _That_ did have a certain appeal.

He wasn't entirely sure why, but Trowa had _always_ enjoyed having sex in hotels. It was practically a routine that, as soon as they checked in and went to their room, Trowa pushed Zechs down onto the bed or against the door and sucked him off.

"So, I take you to my reunion and _you_ give me all the sex I want."

"Plus, all the sex _I_ want. And I'll let you drag me to all the Civil War battlefields you want to."

"It's an important historical-"

"You're Southern, I get it. I've made peace with it."

"My family moved here during the Cold War, Trowa. I'm _not_ Southern."

"Say rural."

"Oh, go fuck yourself."

"I will. Or," Trowa finally put down the postcard and grasped Zechs's tie, " _you_ can fuck me."

That was far from the worst idea Zechs had heard tonight. He finished off his beer and allowed Trowa to lead him out of the kitchen and to their bedroom.

"You know, you didn't ask about my prom," he had to point out, as Trowa started to undress him. "It's probably one of the _only_ things I wouldn't mind revisiting." He shrugged out of the shirt and jacket that Trowa pushed down his arms.

"Oh? More dick burn courtesy of Treize?" Trowa unfastened his trousers with deft fingers.

"No dick burn," Zechs smirked. "But he did rent a limo. We spent two hours fucking in the backseat before we even showed up, and it was only long enough for him to get crowned Prom King, and then we went to the hotel room he booked and spent the rest of the night… _grooving_."

Trowa chuckled.

He pulled off his t-shirt and then pushed Zechs down onto the bed. Trowa climbed onto the bed, straddling Zechs's thighs.

"So we'll go to your Civil War battlefields, we'll fuck in a bunch of shitty motels, and I'll rent a limo to take us to your reunion. We'll fuck long enough for you to be unfashionably late, and then you can show me off to all of your friends while your cum is still dripping out of my ass. And, if you think you have the _stamina_ for it, we'll spend the rest of the night _grooving_ in whatever hotel room you stayed in a century ago."

Zechs narrowed his eyes at Trowa.

"A _century_ ago?"

"Almost. What was it, 2002? 2001?"

"2002," Zechs confirmed. "Are you going to be this mouthy the whole time we're on this road trip of yours?"

"If you've got a problem with it, you know the best way to shut me up."

"Yes, I do," Zechs agreed.

He pushed Trowa's head towards his groin.

"I think you'll find something there to occupy yourself with."

Trowa smirked at him, but shifted, kneeling between Zechs's legs and tugging the waistband of his briefs down to his thighs. Zechs was already half-hard, and Trowa bent down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his balls.

"I've been thinking about this all day."

"You've been plotting to force me into go to my high school reunion all day?"

"No," Trowa snorted. "I've been thinking about your dick all day. I've only been thinking about that other thing for the last two hours. It doesn't take me _that_ long to plot."

"About that shutting you up thing," Zechs lifted his hips.

Trowa took the hint.

He ran one hand over the length of Zechs's cock, smoothing the foreskin down to reveal the head and licking the smooth flesh.

Zechs shuddered at the flash of pleasure. Trowa laved at the shaft, tracing over veins and mapping his way to the base of Zechs's cock before venturing further, leaving a wet trail over Zechs's balls before he gently suckled them.

Zechs bucked upwards reflexively. His scrotum had always been sensitive, a fact that Trowa mercilessly took advantage of. He could _feel_ the other man smirking against him.

One of Trowa's hands continued to stroke Zechs's cock, working him to a full erection while his mouth teased along Zechs's perineum and forced a moan from his lips.

Trowa's other hand was, Zechs imagined, busily working his own cock free from his jeans.

After another few tantalizing strokes of his tongue, Trowa moved his attention back to Zechs's cock, taking the head into his mouth and slowly devouring the shaft.

He swallowed Zechs's cock to the root, his wet lips buried in the thick curls of Zechs's groin, and Zechs gave a shallow upwards thrust.

Trowa's eyes flicked to Zechs as his cheeks bulged, and he moaned around the thick, rigid cock that filled his mouth.

His nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath and then he slowly eased back, revealing inch after inch of Zechs's glistening cock.

He shivered, relishing the warring heat of Trowa's mouth and the cool air of the bedroom.

Trowa was still fondling his balls, gently but firmly, one of his fingers tracing over his perineum and teasing at his anus.

Slowly, teasing, Trowa lowered his head again, taking the length back into his mouth until Zechs felt his cock nudge the back of his throat.

He thrust upwards again, deeper and more forceful than the first time, and Trowa moaned again.

The hand that had been stroking Zechs moved to his hip, fingers digging into the skin as he held on.

Zechs thrust again, burying himself inside the blazing cavern surrounding his cock, feeling Trowa working to breathe and suck at the same time.

Trowa's struggles only heightened Zechs's arousal, the constriction of his mouth and throat felt divine, and the glazed, desperate look in Trowa's eyes inspired Zechs to fuck him in earnest.

He pistoned his hips upward, his pace fast and hard, brutally filling Trowa's mouth with each snap of his hips, until Trowa had to abandon touching himself and cling to Zechs with two hands.

Saliva leaked from Trowa's mouth, and his fingers raked over Zechs's hips as he fought to keep taking Zechs's cock.

"There's only one thing that satisfies your mouth, isn't there?" Zechs panted. He reached down and ran his fingers through Trowa's hair, pushing it away from his face and taking hold of it, pulling just a little.

Trowa moaned, sending vibrations down Zechs's cock, and Zechs groaned as he propelled his hips higher, his shaft deeper.

"Actually," Zechs grunted as he thrust again, "I don't think _anything_ satisfies you. You spend _every_ day thinking about my cock, don't you, slut?"

Trowa's fingers spasmed, and he tried to nod around his mouthful.

Zechs could feel himself approaching orgasm, the heavy feeling in his balls turning into a building pressure, and he pushed Trowa away.

The man gasped and glared at Zechs even as he panted and struggled to breathe.

Zechs reached for his own cock, taking himself in a tight grip.

"Turn around. I want your ass."

Trowa obligingly rolled over, crouching on all fours and presenting his bare ass to Zechs.

Zechs rose to his knees and stroked his cock, bringing himself back to the edge.

He pushed Trowa's cheeks apart with one hand. He slid his cock between the firm globes, moving the length up and down, uncaring when his cock pushed against Trowa's balls and the other man groaned.

Feeling the rush of heat and ecstasy pull at him, Zechs sat back on his heels and jerked his cock into position, jettisoning a streak of cum across Trowa's lower back and ass. He milked himself, leaving a creamy trail on the flesh before him, and then sat back to admire his handiwork.

Idly, as his breathing and heartrate slowly returned to normal and his orgasm left him feeling sated and boneless, Zechs massaged his semen into Trowa's skin.

He left the man's lower back glistening before swiping at the last streak of cum and pushing it against Trowa's anus.

The other man pushed back, welcoming the slick finger.

"So desperate," Zechs murmured.

"Please."

"Please what?" Zechs asked, as he pushed his finger further into Trowa's welcoming body, searching for the spot that would make Trowa cry out.

The other man moaned, and Zechs saw his hands twist in the sheets.

"Please _that_ ," Trowa groaned.

Zechs chuckled and happily obliged. He leaned forward and swiped his tongue over Trowa's ass, leaving behind enough saliva to coat a second finger.

He fingered Trowa leisurely, teasing the other man with a languid pace. Trowa bucked against him, clearly wanting more, but Zechs deliberately didn't give it to him. He wanted to draw this out, wanted to have his cock buried in Trowa when he finally allowed the other man to come.

"I'm going to enjoy this little road trip you've got planned." Zechs decided to focus on anything _but_ the destination. "I think I'll have you read about the battlefields we visit while I fuck you each night."

"That's kinky, even for you," Trowa huffed.

"You've never complained about my kinks before," Zechs pointed out, twisting his fingers and scissoring them open.

" _Fuck_ ," Trowa moaned, his voice muffled by the sheets. "I'm not- I'm not complaining now."

"Sounded like a complaint to me." Zechs started to pull his fingers out.

Trowa shoved his ass backwards, impaling himself.

"I'll read you the Gettysburg Address if it gets you off. Now _please_ just fuck me."

Zechs chuckled, and pulled his fingers free. He gave Trowa's ass a push.

"Get the lube."

Trowa stretched out, long limbs letting him reach for the tube they kept in Zechs's nightstand with ease.

Zechs admired the view.

They had met at a rock climbing center. Zechs had been dragged there by his co-workers at some ridiculous retreat that had resulted in Anthony from legal spraining his ankle. Trowa had been the unfortunate trainer assigned to their group. He had rebuffed Zechs's advances, not even bothering to be polite when Zechs asked him out for a drink after the session was over. They had met again the next week, however, in the waiting room at the dentist. Trowa had rolled his eyes and told Zechs there were better places to stalk him, places like Woody's on Thursday night at seven. That had been two years ago, and Zechs had finally convinced Trowa to move in with him six months ago, had finally convinced _Catherine_ that he thought of her brother as more than an exceptional piece of ass only three months ago when he joined forces with her to convince Trowa to finally send in his applications to grad school.

And even though Zechs most certainly _did_ think of Trowa as more than that, he _did_ think Trowa was an exceptional piece of ass. Something that Trowa reinforced on a regular basis to both their satisfactions.

Trowa flipped the lube at Zechs before resuming his earlier position, ass up and shoulders braced against the mattress.

Zechs squeezed lubricant onto his hand and worked it over his cock, stroking the flesh back to a full erection before drizzling more lube over Trowa's open, waiting channel.

He nudged his cock into place, easing himself in slowly, luxuriating in the tight grip around him.

"I love your ass," he sighed.

"Prove it," Trowa dared, and Zechs smirked.

"Shall I worship it?" Zechs asked, and drew back so that he could push back into Trowa's body in one long, smooth stroke. Trowa moaned. "Or should I punish it?" This time, his thrust was brutal, pushing Trowa's shoulders and head into the mattress with the force of his movements.

"What would Lincoln want you to do?" Trowa teased, the question drawing a startled chuckle from Zechs.

"Hard to say." Zechs rolled his hips forward again, watching his thick cock pierce Trowa's body. "If he'd had to try to satisfy _you_ every night, he probably wouldn't have had time to accomplish anything else."

Trowa snorted.

"Did you just say you're better than _Lincoln_?"

"Not at running a country." Zechs picked up his pace, moving in and out of Trowa's body fast enough and hard enough that he could hear Trowa panting. "At fucking? I'm sure of it."

"No argument here." Trowa reached for his cock and started to stroke it, the muscles in his forearm flexing.

Trowa's hips writhed against Zechs's groin, his ass begging for more, and Zechs happily gave him what he wanted.

He pounded into Trowa's body, pulling his cock almost entirely out before slamming it back in, and Trowa's pants soon became groans, and then dissolved into desperate moans that raced along Zechs's spine.

He could feel his cock swell, could feel his release pressing forward again, and he reached out to clasp his hand around Trowa's.

"Come with me," he grunted, moving their joined hands over Trowa's cock.

"I'm close," Trowa promised. "Just- Fuck. _Fuck_."

Zechs felt Trowa's body clench around him at the same moment he felt the surge of semen erupt from his cock.

Still stroking Trowa, Zechs plunged into him again and again, pushing his body towards climax until he found it, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through him as his cock filled Trowa's body with cum. He gave a final thrust of his hips, groaning with the effort and the overwhelming sensation of completion.

Zechs fell forward, his weight carrying both of them down to the mattress, and struggled to breathe.

"If I'd realized talking about Lincoln got you so worked up, I would have suggested a road trip to your battlefields a long time ago."

-o-


End file.
